#tapping in

[canmking]

W h a t ‘ s

P o p p i n ! ?

[sappymix1]

TINAS STILL LIVE????

[tinamybeloved]

SAPNAP

[tinogiehd]

bad and skeppy streaming together rn at 2am and them lamenting about not being together 😭😭😭 i fear the meetup made them so much worse

jesus crhist what

[atompalace-official]

….well, she’s got the spirit!

[manny-jacinto]

ZOMBIELAND: DOUBLE TAP (2019)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Once again, we do not accept "aita for feeling" submissions here, please stop sending them.

[spectra-bear]

Sometimes something simple could be really special, after all.

[taplaos]

🐋💤💤🫧

[stuckinapril]

what they didn’t tell you as a child is that you will spend your whole life trying to replicate the same unconditional happiness you so effortlessly experienced back then and that it will never quite feel the same no matter how hard you try

[lemongogo]

life of regret

[sappymix1]

sylvita 👯‍♀️

[pigdemonart]

Unexpected and unrequested Bowuigi be upon ye

They still tickle me from time to time. And I found these now years old sketches I never cleaned up, and decided to share cuz WHY NOT!

Its a good time thank everyone who supports my silly ideas LOL 🙇 ♥️ genuinely love you all sm

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[peachesofteal]

Simon Riley who needs a job at all times. Some sort of objective. A goal.

When he’s home… it’s you. He gets up with you in the morning before work and makes your tea or coffee, depending on your disposition. He makes your lunch and packs it. He helps you put on your coat. He’d tie your shoes for you, if you let him.

At night, he’s dedicated to turning your brain off, emptying you of all your stress and worry, the tension slowly leaking from your shoulders as his cum leaks from between your legs. He fucks you stupid, cleans you up, tucks you into bed.

It’s easier to focus on you. Obsess over you. Spend his waking and dreaming hours thinking of you. It’s the greatest reprieve he could have asked for.

You’re accommodating, languishing in his attention, letting him hover and obsess as he pleases. You promise, time and time again, that you understand, you knew what you were getting yourself into, you were willing to be his sun for the time he could be home. The thing he revolves around. The lighthouse in a foggy night when the water is too rough to navigate and he desperately needs to avoid splintering upon craggy rock.

When it’s time to go, he tucks you away in the back of his mind, unable to afford the distraction. If he thinks about you for too long, he’ll turn around, run right back to your arms, your warmth. Love is a weakness on the field, but off it, it’s the only thing he lives for.

[the-raindeer-king]

The thing with living with a man like Simon, who's been through so much, is that you pick up habits to help the both of you. There is no tiptoeing through the house, no jumping around corners. Not like you could anyway. He's got a habit of keeping you in sight most of the time.

When he's deployed, you leave a note on the fridge saying where you've gone, in case he comes home without telling you. Sometimes you leave more information, like what time you should be home, which of your friends you left with. Sometimes its just the location and a reminder to take care of himself.

You started doing this after the first (and only) time it happened. You had been out with friends, when he'd returned home from deployment. Home to an empty house. Your car sat in the driveway (you'd carpooled with your friends), and Simon assumed the worst.

He'd torn through the house, desperately trying to find some sort of evidence that you were still there. That you hadn't been kidnapped, or left him. His search ended empty handed, and he'd had a panic attack in the bathroom, reliving the events of losing his family.

You came home thirty minutes later, almost giddy when you'd seen his truck in the driveway. That feeling quickly evaporated, when you stepped inside the house. It looked like a tornado had swept through, living room torn apart, all the kitchen cabinets thrown open.

"Simon?" you call, setting your bags down by the front door.

You've never been scared of Simon, never had a reason to be. But when he came out of the bathroom, staring you down, eye black smeared across his face, looking more like Ghost than Simon, you suddenly understood why people gave your boyfriend wide berth.

"Simon?"

He doesn't respond, backing you up against the door. When he reaches out to gently caress your face, you notice his hands are shaking.

"Thought something happened to ya," he whispers, voice hoarse. And then he's dragging you into a hug, crushing you against his chest, arms like a vice around you. It takes you a second to realize he's shaking all over, that there's tears in his eyes.

"No, baby. I was just out with friends," you reply softly, gently running your fingers through hair, nails scratching against his scalp. Guilt eats at you, feeling horrible for causing him this kind of distress. You hadn't expected him today, didn't think to leave a note or something.

"I'll leave a note next time," you promise. And that's stuck since then.